Chapter Text
Snufkin was late.
Trees had sprouted clusters of green leaves again; flowers had blossomed and claimed home along the edges of his tent. Birds sang with him as the sun rose and kissed his skin with its warmth. The air smelt of fresh pine and marigolds, and it was spring.
It was spring, but Snufkin was far from Moominvalley.
The winter had been particularly harsh this year, but not because of the freezing temperatures or the hungry nights; but rather from something else. This something had wrapped itself around Snufkin’s heart like a vine and squeezed with each step he took.
Moomin.
The snowbanks he passed all seemed to have one peculiar Moomin shape. He had heard Moomin’s hearty laughter in the wind and recognized the shades of his eyes in the afternoon sky.
Moomin.
The tunes he played reminded him of Moomin. The riverbanks frozen over reminded him of Moomin. The patch of foliage he spotted fighting against the snow reminded him of Moomin. The vast array of stars scattered across the dark winter sky reminded him of Moomin.
Moomin.
Moomin.
Moomin.
He awoke with thoughts of him and drifted off missing him.
Now, it wasn’t unusual for Moomin to cross Snufkin’s mind during his travels. There had been plenty of times where Snufkin had pocketed a lonely seashell or a rare stone to give to him once they reunited. It wasn’t like he didn’t wonder about him from time to time.
What was unusual was that Moomin was everywhere and everything. It had made traveling oh so difficult.
This was supposed to be Snufkin’s time for himself; time to recharge and rediscover the world he loved so much. As much as he enjoyed his time in Moominvalley, Snufkin craved this period of solitude. He was a creature who could not function properly without it. Snufkin needed time to be alone. He was a wanderer at heart, and a wanderer he always will be.
And so when he found himself craving the familiarity of the valley and longed desperately to return to a certain friend, he knew something was very wrong.
Snufkin wasn’t sure when exactly the feeling started. Perhaps it was this summer during one of their nights alone under the stars, or maybe the seed had been planted the first time he had promised to return with the spring. The when didn’t matter as much as the what.
Snufkin was in love with Moomin, and it terrified him.
To be in love was to be suffocated. It meant the loss of freedom. To be in love was to be rooted to one person; grown to them like moss to a log. Love meant the loss of the freedom that lit Snufkin’s soul aflame. Being in love with another was not something Snufkin wanted to experience, nor did he ever think he would.
But even so, the vine around his heart would tighten its grip with thoughts of Moomin.
Moomin, his best friend. Moomin, the kindest, warmest creature Snufkin had ever met (and Snufkin had met a lot of creatures). Moomin, the reason he returned to the valley every spring year after year after year. Moomin was warmth, Moomin was sunlight, Moomin was adventure, Moomin was happiness, and Moomin was love.
The vines sprouted thorns and dug themselves into his heart.
It hurt, and he was afraid, and that’s why Snufkin stayed away.
The fear of being in love, of being forever caged by his admiration, is why Snufkin did not greet spring in Moominvalley.
It was a very difficult choice. Birds and flowers meant spring, and spring meant Moomin, but Moomin was not here. Spring was not the same without him or the valley, and his heart longed to be there. Hurt and guilt suffocated him, but Snufkin knew distance was what he needed, even if he had to force it. Snufkin needed to distance himself or else he’d be succumbing to the loss of his freedom, and that was scarier than any nightmares even the Groke could plague him with. Snufkin was nothing without his freedom.
Birds needed to fly, fish needed to swim, and Snufkin needed to be free. A bird is a bird, as a fish is a fish, as a Snufkin is a Snufkin.
He couldn’t bring himself to just ghost Moomin, though. Knowing his friend, he would grow sick with worry as weeks carried on and would eventually end up hunting Snufkin down himself. The thought of putting Moomin through that turmoil made Snufkin’s stomach churn, and so he wrote him.
Moomin,
I do not know when this letter will see you, as I am far from Moominvalley. You see, I had mistakenly taken a detour, and now I find myself further away from Moominvalley than I had anticipated. I will return as soon as I can.
Cheerio,
Snufkin
Lying felt horrible, but why was he supposed to say? ‘Moomintroll, I’m sorry but I will be arriving in the valley late this year. See, I’m in love with you, and that scares me so deeply that I need to be away from you.’ Snufkin could not tell him the truth, and so he didn’t.
Moomin would just have to accept a few weeks of spring without him.
*
It was easier said than done.
Snufkin had found himself absentmindedly heading in the direction of Moominvalley a few times already. He had scolded his legs and muscle memory and blamed the pesky ache in his heart. He missed Moomin dearly; for what was spring without him? Not being in Moominvalley during the season felt unnatural, like the rest of the world wasn’t supposed to exist.
Snufkin tried to remind himself that it was for the best.
“Distance,” he told himself, “you need distance because you cannot be in love with Moomin. Snufkins are not made for being in love. We are meant to come and go on our own accord; tied to nobody and nothing. We-- I cannot be who I am if I’m caged in by my feelings for him.”
The distance only seemed to prove less and less helpful by the day. The ache in Snufkin’s heart lingered and grew with every passing thought of Moomin.
Moomin, Moomin, Moomin, Moomin.
“I should be with Moomin.”
The deep longing in his soul was similar to the one felt if he stayed in the valley for too long. It was like his very being called out to him to run, run, and that he would not be happy unless he listened to it. The same flame that lit his eyes and guided him in his travels was calling for him to return to Moominvalley.
How was he supposed to ignore that?
Snufkin tells himself that it’d be better to face his problem rather than continue to run away from it. If he really believes that, he isn’t sure, but all that mattered now was Moomin.